


Surviving

by MelJoyAZ



Category: In the Company of Shadows - Sonny & Ais
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelJoyAZ/pseuds/MelJoyAZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place a little before the events in the 1/27 Anthology...jealousy, anger, and just surviving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surviving

The sound of a slamming door and muttered curses woke Zach from a deep sleep. He rolled to his stomach and buried his head in the pillow, then sneezed as the reek of mildew filled his nostrils. The fucking nasty things were probably 20 years old, and even though the pillowcases themselves were newer and even relatively clean, they couldn’t completely disguise the smell of rot.

Zach lay there and listened to Emilio bang around in the other room, two back-to-back thumps indicating he’d taken his boots off and dropped them carelessly to the floor. The dilapidated floorboards creaked ominously as he approached their small bedroom, and Zach held his breath as he always did, wondering if this would be the night the warped wood would give way and send his lover plummeting through to the level below.

As soon as Emilio’s shadow loomed in the doorway, Zach pushed up to one elbow and reached for the small lamp on the bedside table, flipping the switch. The electricity was spotty, and it was always a crapshoot whether it would work or not. Tonight it did, and a weak glow filled the room courtesy of the cheap, low-wattage bulb, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the air. Zach sneezed again, cursing inwardly at the squalor in which they were forced to live. 

“Hey, baby,” Emilio muttered, staggering a little as he unzipped his hoodie and then pulled his wife-beater over his head, tossing them in a heap on the floor. Zach could smell the weed and tequila on him even from across the room, and it was amusing to watch him try and wrestle his jeans off without falling over. The small gun he had stashed against the small of his back fell with a clatter to the floor, and Emilio cursed, picking it up and carrying it over to the nightstand next to the bed, shoving it in the drawer. 

As he turned around to head toward the small bathroom, Zach could see livid fingernail scratches up and down his lover’s back, fresh, the beads of blood barely beginning to clot. He threw the threadbare sheet off and got out of bed, coming up behind Emilio and grabbing him by the arm, spinning him around. Now that he was looking closely, he could see how the other man’s full lips were slightly swollen, whisker burn around them, and Zach’s nostrils flared as he caught the scent of sweat and sex underneath the reek of liquor.

Emilio held his eyes and smirked, and Zach reached out and traced his fingertips over a darkening bite mark that was forming in the juncture between Emilio’s neck and shoulder.

“Enjoy yourself?” Zach asked drily, his hand falling away as he moved to the bed and threw himself back down on it.

Emilio’s eyes grew heavy-lidded at the memory. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I did.” Zach’s gaze slid over Emilio’s lean torso, noticing what looked like streaks of dried cum caught in the ridged muscle and the trail of hair that arrowed down into the low-slung waistband of his tight boxer briefs.

Zach felt his cock stir at the sight, and he reached down and cupped himself over his own underwear, watching as Emilio’s eyes followed his movement. His lover licked his lips, and Zach crooked a finger, beckoning him over. Emilio complied, and just as he was about to climb on the bed, Zach nodded toward the other man’s briefs. “Take those off. Slowly.”

Emilio smirked again, hooking his fingers in the waistband and easing the material down inch by inch, revealing a trimmed patch of black pubic hair before pausing to stroke himself, and it was Zach’s turn to lick his lips as a damp patch formed on the front of his lover’s briefs, right over where Zach’s hungry eyes could see the clear outline of the head of Emilio’s fat dick.

With a sudden jerk, Emilio pulled his underwear the rest of the way off, and his fully-erect cock sprang free and arced up toward his belly. With slow, sinuous movements, he straddled Zach, bracing his hands next to Zach’s shoulders and leaning down to whisper hotly in his ear, “I know you can smell him on me.”

Zach closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, smelling the musk of another man on his lover’s skin, and just like that, his cock was at full, aching attention. He reached around and filled his palms with Emilio’s ass, squeezing, one finger delving between his muscular cheeks to rub roughly at the puckered skin around his entrance.

“You fuck him?” Zach asked, his voice low and husky, his finger pressing and circling, gritting his teeth as Emilio started a slow rotation of his hips that rubbed his stiff cock against Zach’s own, only the thin fabric of Zach’s straining underwear between them.

“I fucking wrecked him,” Emilio groaned, his panting breaths hot against Zach’s neck. “Put his fucking knees in the air and railed him ‘til he screamed. He was so hot for it, a begging little bitch.”

Zach reached up and cupped the back of Emilio’s head, pulling him down into a brutal kiss, licking and biting at the other man’s lips, making him moan. Zach shoved him back, then pushed his own underwear down and kicked them off. He gripped his dick by the base and rubbed it against Emilio’s ass, growling, “Make it wet, and then I’ll make _you_ scream.”

Emilio kissed his way down Zach’s chest and belly, his green eyes hot with arousal as he held Zach’s gaze, until he was hovering over the slick tip of Zach’s cock. He mouthed it, letting Zach feel the wet inner lining of his lips, his tongue swirling as he lapped up the fluid that was now running freely, chasing the droplets down the thick shaft before they could get lost in Zach’s tawny pubic hair.

“Suck it, goddamn it,” Zach grated, slapping Emilio’s cheek sharply with the flat of his hand before his fingers tangled in thick black hair, gripping. Green eyes blazed up at him before the hot wetness engulfing Zach’s aching dick made Zach’s own eyes close as his back arched helplessly. Emilio took him to the root and swallowed several times, the heat and pressure making Zach cry out. He spread his legs and pulled his knees up, planting his feet flat on the bed as he thrust deep, his hands in Emilio’s hair yanking the other man’s head up and down in a brutal rhythm.

Emilio sucked him hard, his hand following behind his mouth and spreading saliva from base to tip, and when Zach felt his balls tighten dangerously, he yanked him off of his cock, growling, “Get up here.”

His lover crawled his way back up Zach’s body, his lips red and swollen, his chin glistening with spit and pre-cum. He straddled Zach, his knees spread wide, and Zach gripped his dick by the base and stood it upright from his body, groaning as Emilio lowered himself onto it. When Zach was halfway in, he grasped Emilio’s narrow hips for purchase and planted his feet on the bed, snapping his hips up and shoving deep, ripping a cry out of Emilio’s throat. Zach bared his teeth in satisfaction, reaching up over his head to grip the slats of the cheap headboard, ordering the other man to ride him.

Emilio braced his hands on Zach’s shoulders and began bouncing on Zach’s cock, lifting himself until just the tip remained inside him before slamming back down. The sound of slapping skin and hoarse grunts filled the dingy room, the creaking of the old bed almost drowning it out. Emilio rode him hard, his erection tapping his belly, and finally Zach reached up and pulled his lover into another bruising kiss. Their mouths ate at each other as Zach dug his fingers into Emilio’s flexing back, his blunt nails raking across the existing scratches, tearing the newly-forming scabs loose.

Emilio gasped, and Zach did it again, harder this time, groaning as Emilio’s ass rippled in response to the pain, milking Zach hard. It was Zach’s turn to cry out, and he gripped Emilio’s hips to hold him still, dimly noticing the bloody fingerprints he was smearing on his lover’s caramel skin. Zach fucked up into Emilio as hard and fast as he could, watching as Emilio’s abs tightened with impending orgasm, his cries ratcheting up to wails. Zach jackknifed up to a sitting position, biting down hard on Emilio’s nipple as one hand squeezed Emilio’s cock, his thumb rubbing roughly over the slick head.

Emilio’s back arched, his mouth open in a scream as he came hard all over Zach’s chest, his load hitting the underside of Zach’s chin, the muscles of his ass contracting rhythmically and pulling Zach’s own climax out of him. Zach fell back on the bed again and roared as he shoved balls-deep, his cock throbbing deep inside his lover, filling him full.

Shaking with aftershocks, Emilio fell bonelessly against Zach’s chest, cum and sweat gluing them together, their sobbing breaths filling the quiet room until they finally slowed to normal. Zach cupped the back of Emilio’s head and held him close, his lips buried in his lover’s hair. They drifted for a while, until the sticky clamminess of their combined fluid drove Emilio up and into the shower. Their shower was a piece of shit, hardly any water pressure, and half the time the water was icy cold. No matter how much they’d tried to contort themselves, there just wasn’t room in there for more than one at a time, and Zach wallowed on the bed until Emilio reappeared a few minutes later, his teeth chattering, goosebumps evident on his damp skin.

Zach didn’t need to ask if there was any hot water, and he took his turn, trying not to yelp at the icy trickle that was barely enough to wash with. Goddammit he hated this fucking place.

When he emerged, Emilio was dressed in loose sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, and he indicated an open cloth bag on the bed next to him.

“Carlos left this at the door,” he grunted, and Zach grinned as he dug into the bag of sort-of-clean laundry. Part of the deal he’d made with one of the other fighters’ handlers was every time his bitch lost to Emilio, he had to take both Zach’s and Emilio’s laundry and brave the cavernous, humid room with its’ ancient industrial washers and dryers and then deliver them back. And since Emilio never lost, it had worked out perfectly. Zach had quite a few of those kinds of deals in place, and he had cobbled together as comfortable a life for the two of them as he could manage.

And that reminded him. “You’re not fighting tomorrow night, but I need to meet with Bishop and work out the schedule for the rest of the week. I won’t be home ‘til late.”

Emilio grunted as he climbed into their narrow bed and flattened out on his back. “Whatever, man.” Zach wasn’t fooled, he knew that Emilio had what were almost panic attacks whenever he didn’t know exactly where Zach was, and as much as he could, he kept his lover apprised of his whereabouts. Emilio didn’t give him the same courtesy, but Zach thought wryly that sometimes it was best that he be kept in the dark. Emilio had some kind of shady network going for himself, trading in drugs, and weapons, and ass.

Zach flopped down next to Emilio and reached up to turn the lamp off, and he lay there in the fetid darkness, listening to the house creak and groan around them. They were surviving, and that’s about all they could ask for in a place like this.

****

The next afternoon Zach knocked on the door of Bishop’s tiny, rundown apartment, shifting from foot to foot impatiently. He just wanted to get the fighting schedule hammered out and get home; it had been a long-ass day already. For some reason Emilio was in a shitty mood, and during his workout earlier that morning he’d practically torn the head off one of the other fighters who’d been taunting him, talking trash. Zach had had to do some fast maneuvering to placate the guy’s handler, who now had an injured bitch that couldn’t take the ring for at least a week, and the fucker had been calling for Emilio to be tied up and publicly horse-whipped in retaliation. Zach quickly pulled in some favors that he’d been keeping in reserve – goddammit – and had gotten the guy hooked up with some premium drugs and booze, free of charge. Thankfully the incident had been smoothed over, but Emilio had then disappeared before Zach could take his anger and frustration out on his ass.

Bishop opened the door finally, and Zach’s eyes widened. The other man was shirtless, a pair of unfastened jeans riding low on his hips, the slice of hair peeking over the waistband revealing that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. He wasn’t a big man, but lean and wiry, his skin smooth and almost flawless, no tattoos, a few interesting scars, just acres of golden brown skin, lightly sheened with sweat. The reason for that was apparent when Bishop said with a smirk, “Sorry, man, I forgot you were coming over. I have – company.” He waved his hand to indicate a slender black-haired young man, not more than 21, perched on the kitchen counter, his legs splayed, naked. 

Zach gulped. “Jesus, man,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll come back later.” He turned to leave, and Bishop grabbed his upper arm.

“No, Ken, come in. Join us.”

Zach peered around Bishop’s shoulder at the kid. He was undeniably attractive, but just so young – Zach shuddered inwardly and said, “Nah, I’ll pass, but thanks for offering to share.”

Bishop grinned then said, “Suit yourself. I won’t be long. Come in and wait, okay?” Zach hesitated and the other man said coaxingly, “Got some fucking awesome whiskey for you while you wait. I really want to get the schedule set tonight but I can’t leave the little slut like that.” He waved his hand at the boy again, and Zach looked, unwilling arousal starting to burn low as he watched him idly stroke his healthy erection, the other hand pinching his nipple.

Zach nodded, and Bishop clapped him on the shoulder, striding toward the twink and hoisting him up in his arms. The kid wrapped his arms and legs around him, and Bishop carried him toward what Zach assumed was the bedroom as he called over his shoulder, “Whiskey’s in the cabinet!”

Zach poured himself a couple of fingers of the rich brown whiskey, then sat and enjoyed the mellow taste while listening to the enthusiastic banging of the headboard in the other room accompanied by lusty groans and high-pitched whimpers. Jesus.

By the time Bishop came out half an hour later, hair damp from a shower, Zach was floating in a pleasant haze of alcohol and low-grade arousal. The other man had put on a pair of loose sweatpants, was still shirtless, and his grey eyes were slumberous with sexual satisfaction. He poured himself his own whiskey then sat down opposite Zach at the rickety little table.

“So…” he began, taking a healthy slug of his drink. “Thanks for waiting, man.”

Zach raised his glass slightly in a mocking toast. “Thanks for the booze.”

Bishop toasted him back then relaxed into his chair, sighing with satisfaction. “Kid was part of a group of new arrivals yesterday. Liked the looks of him, and now I think I’ll add him to my roster, keep him out of gen pop.” 

Zach knew that sending young men like that into general population meant the pit, taking guy after guy up every orifice, the avid crowd cheering and egging them on – he shuddered, deliberately blanking out the memory.

“There were a couple of other promising ones,” Bishop continued, watching Zach over the rim of his glass. “I could throw them your way, if you want.”

Zach immediately shook his head.

“Why not? In your position, you can afford to run more than one fighter.”

Zach snorted. “And in case you haven’t noticed, Naco is more than a handful. If you think I need the additional aggravation, you’re bat-shit crazy.”

“And in case _you_ haven’t noticed, you’re a major player here now, and some assholes are starting to question why you don’t add to your stable.”

Putting his glass down carefully, Zach leaned forward in his chair and pinned Bishop with his eyes. “If these ‘assholes’ have questions, tell them to come directly to me and ask them. Got it?”

After a few seconds, Bishop broke the stare-down, shrugging. “Just sayin’, Ken. You want to build up your power base as my second-in-command –“

“I’m not your second-in- _shit_ ,” Zach said softly. “We’re equals, Bishop. If you need me to prove it again –“ he let his voice trail off warningly. “And I don’t build up a fucking power base by running a ‘stable’ full of bitches that I have to be responsible for. Using up all my time trying to keep them from killing each other out of jealousy, or being worried one of them might shank me in my sleep one night. I trust Naco implicitly, and if you’re thinking I need variety for my cock, Naco’s got a tight hole and a hot mouth, and that’s more than enough for me.”

Bishop smirked. “Yeah, he looks like a wild ride, all right. I wouldn’t mind giving that a go.”

“Well, his ass is mine,” Zach said mildly, though he knew his eyes were blazing with a warning.

“You sure about that? I saw him having a pretty good time last night with –“

“I don’t much care where he sticks his dick, but his ass is _mine_.” Zach’s voice had dropped to a growl, and Bishop shrugged.

“Noted,” he murmured, tossing back his last swallow of whiskey.

He got up and rummaged in a drawer for some paper, and Zach couldn’t help but trace his eyes over the other man’s body, broad shoulders tapering into slim hips and high, round buttocks. Bishop turned around and leaned against the counter as he absently looked through the sheaf of paper in his hand, and Zach’s gaze fell to his crotch, the thin, clingy sweatpants emphasizing everything. He involuntarily licked his lips, and suddenly he looked up and saw Bishop watching him, his smirk and the light burning in his eyes telling Zach he knew full well where Zach’s thoughts had just been.

He slid his hand slowly down his own chest until he cupped himself over his pants, fondling.

“You want some of this, Ken?”

Zach swallowed hard, and shook his head. He couldn’t move as Bishop walked toward him slowly, pausing right next to him, and Zach could feel the heat of the other man’s body, his vision filled with nothing but bare, golden brown skin.

“I watched you and Naco once,” Bishop murmured, his voice hoarse. “You were in your office, and I’d needed to ask you a question so I went up there. You had Naco against the wall and damn, Ken, I didn’t think that tough little shit had it in him to beg like that.”

Arousal ripped through Zach as he thought of what Bishop must have seen, Zach with Emilio belly-first against the wall, Zach’s hands on his hips yanking him to his toes as Zach fucked him into a sobbing, begging mess.

“I jacked off while I watched, and I came when you did,” the other man whispered. Zach could see that he was hard, and his mouth dried as Bishop stroked himself again through the pants, emphasizing the shape of his cock.

Before Zach thought about what he was doing, he stood and shoved the other man back toward the kitchen counter, his fingers digging into his bicep.

“What do you want?” he hissed. Bishop’s lips parted, and he reached up, trying to pull Zach’s head down to kiss him. Zach resisted, and Bishop contented himself with mouthing Zach’s neck, biting along the tendon and ripping a helpless moan from Zach.

The combination of the alcohol, Bishop’s half-naked body, along with his anger and frustration at Emilio, the low-grade arousal that he’d been feeling since listening to the sex show from the other room, it all came together in one blaze of heat, and Zach spun the other man around and pressed him belly first against the counter. There were a few condoms lying there, and Zach picked one up, pinning Bishop in place with his hips, and tore it open.

“You want it?” he growled. “Show me you want it.” He gasped as Bishop pressed his ass back against Zach’s groin, circling against him, and Zach yanked the man’s sweatpants to his knees.

****

_The fuck is takin’ him so long?_

Emilio slouched in the shadows next to the rundown apartment building, looking up at the light burning in Bishop’s apartment. He’d seen Zach go in there like an hour before, and Emilio knew full well it only took half that time to set the fighting schedule for the week.

Emilio shifted his position, crammed his hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie, and scowled down at his feet. It had been a shitty fucking day, and he’d wanted to talk to Blondie before Emilio headed out for his night’s activities. Hell, the man was so goddamn pissed at him for that morning’s clusterfuck. It had been a long time since Emilio had seen his lover so spun up, radiating that cold anger that used to make Agency recruits cringe like whipped puppies.

Yeah, he’d fucked up, cost Zach some valuable favors that he’d been keeping for a rainy day. Emilio felt bad about that, he really did. He didn’t regret what he’d done, though, and if he ever got his hands on that piece-of-shit Chester again, he’d kill him. What he _should_ have done was waited, broken the man’s neck in a dark alley instead of going after him in full view of hundreds of people. 

Emilio blew out a breath and shifted position again. He didn’t like it when Zach was mad at him, and _fuck_ if that didn’t make him sound like an emo little bitch, but it was true. What they’d been through over the past two years – Jesus, they’d formed an unbreakable bond, and they made a damn good team. Zach’s tactical knowledge and ability to read people, plus Emilio’s street smarts and lack of morals meant they had the advantage over all the dumb-as-fuck criminals they were surrounded by. Given enough time, he and Zach could own this place.

Except for maybe Bishop. That dude reminded Emilio a lot of Zach. He was hella smart, and canny, had his shit together, cool as a fucking cucumber. Emilio would bet he was former Spec Ops, Zach’s counterpart in whatever shady organization he’d been involved with. As he and Zach were clawing their way up to claim their slice of this shit-heap territory , they’d instinctively known that they should ally themselves with Bishop, at least for now, and they’d been careful not to step on the other man’s toes. Too much.

Both Emilio and Zach were smart enough not to get too greedy, and once they’d established their territory and made it known – and fuck, that had been a bloody week – that they would do anything to defend it, life had settled more or less into a routine. A dangerous tightrope of a routine, but routine nonetheless.

“Hey, Naco!” A voice broke into Emilio’s musings, and he scowled as Kit, a tasty little bitch that Emilio had enjoyed on more than one occasion, walked up with another guy in tow. Emilio looked him over interestedly – Latino, slender with big brown eyes, slightly scared look in his eyes. Newbie. He’d get him a piece of that soon enough, but not tonight; Emilio had things to fuckin’ do.

He sent the two twinks on their way, then huffed as he looked up at Bishop’s apartment again. Okay, enough of this waiting-around shit. He knew that Zach probably wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted, and it might not go well for Emilio later, but fuck it. He had people to meet with and shit to do.

A few minutes later Emilio was outside Bishop’s apartment door, and he pressed his ear to the warped wood, waiting to see if he could hear the rumble of voices. Just as he raised his fist to pound, he heard something. A low moan that sounded awfully goddamn familiar. Emilio’s jaw tightened, and his gut clenched. No, Zach wouldn’t –

The moan came again, a little louder this time, and then a different voice gasped out, “Harder, Ken. Jesus, go harder.” A loud grunt, punctuated by the rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh.

A red haze descended before Emilio’s eyes, and he raised his booted foot and kicked the door in with all his might. It splintered, pieces of it flying into the room beyond, and Emilio’s disbelieving gaze took in Bishop and Zach, pants around their knees, Bishop bent over a counter with Zach buried deep in his ass. They froze, Zach’s shocked eyes meeting Emilio’s, and then everything went black.

****

The sound of splintering wood interrupted Zach’s pleasant race to orgasm, the body beneath him a means toward that end, and then in the next instant Zach was reeling backwards and Bishop was flying through the air to land with a sickening thud against the opposite wall. Immediately the other man started thrashing, blood streaming from his mouth, the lower half of his face looking distorted. Broken jaw. Zach flew to him and turned him on his side to keep him from choking to death on his own blood.

When he looked up again, his insides went ice cold. Emilio was aiming his gun at Bishop’s head, his eyes black, soulless.

“Naco,” Zach said softly. “Don’t.” He froze as the black muzzle swung toward him, the face behind the gun implacable, hard…the face of a killer. Zach stood up slowly, his hands out in a non-threatening posture.

“Put the gun down, Naco. Now.” Zach interjected a harsh tone into his voice, hoping to back Emilio down, and the slow deliberate cocking of the hammer let him know he’d just made a huge mistake.

Emilio held the gun pointed unwaveringly at Zach’s head for another endless minute, then he suddenly swung it back down to aim at Bishop again. The other man had mercifully passed out, blood still trickling from his slack mouth.

“If you kill him, you’ll start a war,” Zach warned, holding his breath as Emilio put his finger on the trigger. “Think about what you’ll be doing. We won’t survive it, Emilio.”

The sound of his real name seemed to startle Emilio into some semblance of sanity, and he hesitated. His finger tightened on the trigger for one heart-stopping second, and then he eased off and uncocked the gun, sticking it back in his pants. 

“You’re right,” Emilio said flatly, turning to face Zach. “And he sure as fuck ain’t worth dyin’ for.” The unspoken words _neither are you_ echoed through the room as Emilio’s cold, flat stare met his, and then before Zach could blink, Emilio was gone.

Zach breathed out, suddenly aware of Bishop’s twink cowering in the doorway to the bedroom.

“Go get Doc Watkins,” Zach ordered harshly. “Tell him there’s a possible broken or dislocated jaw. He’ll know what to do. When he gets here, give him a bottle of whiskey first.” Zach nodded toward Bishop’s whiskey stash. “He won’t help unless he gets paid in advance.”

The kid nodded, his eyes full of fear, as he disappeared back into the bedroom presumably to put some clothes on. Zach suddenly realized with self-loathing that his own condom-covered cock was still hanging limply from his open, sagging pants, and with an oath he stripped the latex off and tucked himself away.

He waited until the young man was out the door, running for help, before he took off after Emilio. Zach went straight to Brighton’s version of J&J’s, a decrepit old building that used to be the community high school. He searched through what was once the cafeteria, stepping around men passed out from drugs or drink, avoiding the used condoms and syringes that littered the floor. He didn’t see Emilio in any of the shadowed corners of the large room, and he blew out an impatient breath. If he wasn’t here, Zach didn’t have the first clue where to search for him.

Suddenly a hand scrabbled at his leg, and Zach jerked away, looking down at a man sprawled on the floor, his back against the wall.

“Lookin’ for Naco?” he slurred, and Zach nodded. The man lifted a shaky hand and pointed in the direction of where the first-floor classrooms were.

“Seen him a few minutes ago, takin’ a couple tasty little pieces of ass back to one of the private rooms.” The man grinned, treating Zach to a view of blackened teeth and rotting gums. Zach turned without a word and strode off in the direction the man had indicated, self-righteous anger starting to burn through him.

Sure enough, a few minutes later Zach looked in one of the broken-down classrooms and saw Emilio on an old tattered mattress, propped on his elbows, a young Latino man between Emilio’s widespread legs, his head bobbing in an unmistakable rhythm. There was a blond kid behind the Latino, his face buried between the guy’s cheeks, and Zach could hear Emilio’s guttural voice say, “That’s it, Kit. Get that hole nice and wet for me.”

Zach pushed into the room, snarling, “Get out,” and with yelps of fear, the two twinks grabbed their clothes and disappeared out the door. Emilio sprawled negligently on the mattress, not bothering to close his legs or zip up, his still-erect cock arcing toward his belly and glistening with saliva.

“Look at you, such a goddamn _fucking_ slut,” Zach hissed. Emilio smirked, reaching down to stroke himself.

“That’s right, I am, _General_ ,” he said mockingly. “I ain’t never made no fucking secret of it. This ain’t news to you.” 

He let go of himself and unhurriedly pushed to his feet, staggering as Zach backhanded him hard.

“And you have the sheer fucking nerve to break Bishop’s face and point a goddamned gun at me?” Zach shouted. 

Emilio scrubbed his forearm across his mouth, then spit, the bloody saliva spattering near Zach’s boot. 

“Do you even know how to do anything except fuck and fuck things up?” Zach went on, his voice shaking with rage. Emilio’s eyes kindled at that, and he paused in the act of tucking himself away, advancing on Zach.

“You mean something like saving your worthless life?” he sneered, and Zach shoved him hard, sending Emilio staggering once again.

“Fat lot of good that does when you get us killed in here, you asshole!”

“You hit me again, or push me, and I will wipe the floor with you, motherfucker,” Emilio warned, his green eyes flat and cold.

Without thought Zach backhanded Emilio again, and in the next instant he was flat on his back, his own face throbbing with pain. With a roar he swept Emilio’s legs with his own, sending the other man crashing to the floor. Zach pounced, and they rolled over and over, fists, elbows and feet lashing out, grunts of pain and curses filling the air.

“You’re nothing but a fucking liability,” Zach grated, and his hands wrapped around Emilio’s throat and squeezed viciously. Emilio broke his hold, his own fist flying toward Zach’s face again. Zach dodged at the last minute and the other man’s punch narrowly missed him, Emilio’s knuckles exploding with blood as the momentum drove his fist into the floor. Emilio howled with rage and pain, and Zach didn’t even see him move, Emilio’s forearm suddenly like a steel bar across his throat, pinning him. Zach gasped for breath, and Emilio bore down, almost cutting off his air.

“Why do you keep me around then, Zach?” he hissed, and released the pressure on his throat, allowing Zach to gulp in air. In a lightning-fast move Zach flipped Emilio to his stomach and came down over top of him, grinding his hips lewdly into Emilio’s ass. He wrenched Emilio’s head back by the hair and kissed him brutally, tasting blood.

“Why do you think, slut?” Zach growled into Emilio’s mouth, his voice hoarse with exertion and emotion. “Because you’re a damn good fuck.”

At that, the fight went out of Emilio and he went limp. Zach let go of his hair, and Emilio’s head hung toward the floor. For a moment the only sound in the room was their panting breaths, and finally Zach rolled off of Emilio and pushed to his feet.

“I’m going home,” he said quietly. “Do what you want. You always do.” And he strode off without a backward glance. The twinks were huddled together at the end of the hallway, wide-eyed, and Zach jerked his head toward the room he’d just left. 

“He’s all yours.”

****

Just as Zach reached their apartment, the airhorns along the top of the 10-story wall went off, indicating lockdown. It was the monthly supply drop, and all inmates were to stay in their locations until further notice. Anyone caught out on the street would be shot on sight. It wasn’t long until he heard the rumbling of tanks rolling along the deserted streets, and the marching of boots. He peered out the dingy window, seeing fully-armored men with automatic weapons at the ready escorting the supply trucks and the maintenance vehicles to the center of the prison.

The crack of gunfire suddenly sounded over the constant wailing of the airhorns, and Zach winced. Some unlucky fuck caught out on the street, probably didn’t have time to get to some sort of shelter. It was zero tolerance, and no second chances. Zach knew because of the lockdown he wouldn’t be seeing Emilio for several hours, so he went to take a ‘shower,’ pleasantly surprised that there was hot water for a change. He stood and let the water trickle down the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders in an effort to loosen the tension.

There were livid bruises along his torso from Emilio’s blows, and his cheek throbbed where Emilio had punched him. Jesus Christ, the two of them were such a fucking mess. Zach cringed inwardly as he remembered the things he’d said to his lover, things meant to deliberately wound. Emilio was tough, and he would pretend he didn’t care, but Zach couldn’t forget how the other man had slumped beneath him, his head falling to the floor when Zach said all he was to him was a good fuck.

The hours passed slowly, and Zach sat brooding, until he heard the front door open and suddenly realized the airhorns had stopped. The lockdown was over, and Emilio was back. Zach turned to look at him, noticing that his lover’s lips were split and twice their size from Zach’s blows, and there were distinct finger marks encircling his neck. The thin metal collar there had also dug into tender flesh when Zach had been strangling him, and there was a livid weal in the midst of the bruises. Without thought, Zach approached him and cupped the back of his head gently, pulling him in for a kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Emilio shrugged and wandered over to the window, leaning against the wall next to it and staring blindly out into the street.

“You don’t get to fuck anyone else, Zach,” Emilio said flatly. “It ain’t fair, and Christ knows it’s a double standard to end all double standards, but that’s the way it is.”

Zach leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the window, facing him. “I don’t want to fuck anyone else, Emilio. I just –“ He lifted one shoulder helplessly. “I was pissed, and stressed, a little drunk. No excuse, really.”

Emilio didn’t say anything for a minute, then grated, “That guy I fucked up this morning, he’s a cho-mo.” 

Zach grimaced at the prison slang for child molester. “Jesus.”

“When we were sparring, he started sayin’ that he liked little boys, and asked me if I had a little boy. I didn’t fuckin’ answer, and he still started to tell me what he liked to do to them.”

Zach watched as Emilio’s face hardened in remembered rage, and pain, and Zach stepped closer and put his hand on the other man’s arm. “You weren’t there, Emilio. What happened to Hsin, it wasn’t your fault.” 

Emilio shrugged off Zach’s attempt at comfort.

“I left him, though,” he said roughly. “I walked away and never looked back, never gave him another thought, and what happened to him – I wanted to kill that piece of shit today. For Hsin. And I still will. When he’s not looking, I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Zach said quietly. 

“I ain’t gonna apologize for what I did to that bastard this morning. If you waitin’ for that, you can go fuck yourself.”

Zach shook his head. “No. I understand now.”

Emilio blew out a huge breath, then said, “Gonna take a fuckin’ shower.” 

Zach watched him go, and he was still standing at the window several minutes later when Emilio came back in, the blood washed away, his hair damp.

“Emilio,” Zach said, “what happened with Bishop today won’t ever happen again. “

“It better not,” Emilio said coldly. He walked up and stood behind Zach. “Listen, what you said about me today, what you called me. It’s true.”

Zach turned, opening his mouth to say something, and Emilio said, “Shut up. I’m talkin’.” Zach crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his eyebrows raised, listening.

“I know what I am, you know what I am, whatever. What I saw today, you and Bishop – that’s not you, man. It’s this place, and I don’t want it to change you. Don’t let it fuck you up, turn you into something you ain’t. We been beating this place, we’re surviving, and we gonna get outta here someday.” 

“Rules,” Zach said simply. “I won’t fuck anyone else and you –“

“Won’t let anyone fuck me,” Emilio said with a small, rueful smile. “You know I don’t. My ass is yours, baby.”

“You’d better believe your ass is mine,” Zach said fiercely. He turned away from Emilio and faced the window, the glass so caked with muck and grime that it was almost impossible to see through. He stared unseeingly at it anyway, his voice dropping to almost a whisper, a trace of bitterness seeping in. “Because Lord knows you share everything else. How many loads did you swallow today?”

There was silence, and then Emilio was behind him, so close he could feel the heat of the other man’s body against his back.

“None,” Emilio murmured. “I don’t let nobody come in my mouth.”

Zach couldn’t help his snort of disbelief. “Yeah?” he asked, skepticism in his tone. “And why’s that?”

He shivered as he felt Emilio’s warm lips against his ear. “Because I kiss you with it, that’s why.”

Zach turned and wrapped his lover up in his arms, kissing him, hot and wet and deep. Emilio winced as his split lips cracked open again, and Zach passed his thumb over them roughly in silent apology.

“Fuck me, Zach,” Emilio murmured. 

Zach dragged him over to the couch and pushed him down, yanking Emilio’s sweatpants off and throwing them aside. He hooked Emilio’s legs in his hands and shoved the other man’s knees to his chest, rolling his hips back. Emilio’s eyes widened, and he pushed Zach’s hands off his legs and replaced them with his own, pulling his own knees back practically to his ears.

Zach winked at him, then spread Emilio’s cheeks wide with his hands and dove between them with his mouth. He didn’t do this for his lover often, but when he did, the sounds the other man made drove Zach fucking crazy with lust. Emilio didn’t disappoint, whining and begging, making high-pitched noises in the back of his throat as Zach licked and sucked on his hole, stabbing the center of it with his tongue in a parody of fucking.

Finally Zach reared up onto his knees between Emilio’s legs, spitting into his palm and slicking his erection, thrusting slowly in and out through the tunnel of his fist. Emilio watched him avidly, panting.

“Want it, Vega?” Zach purred, lust making his balls tighten dangerously as Emilio’s hole pushed out in answer, pulsing. Zach lifted one of his lover’s legs to his shoulder, his hand hooking Emilio’s other knee and pushing the leg up and out, before lining up and thrusting home. Emilio’s back arched as the tight ring of muscle fought the head of Zach’s dick, but Zach was relentless, rocking against him until the tip slipped inside. Both of them groaned, Zach gritting his teeth as he fought not to come in the first ten seconds.

“I love fucking you,” he hissed, lifting Emilio’s other leg to his shoulder and leaning forward, bending the other man almost in half. He gave Emilio long strokes, Zach’s hands gripping the couch’s armrest on either side of Emilio’s head, the intensity of his thrusts making the couch scoot along the floor.

“Yes,” Emilio hissed back, locking his ankles around Zach’s neck and arching into him. 

“Shoot your load for me,” Zach moaned, his abs tightening as he fought off his orgasm, and Emilio reached between his legs and began to jack himself, the muscles in his tight passage rippling as he came hard, crying out hoarsely, cum splattering his chin and lips.

Zach leaned down and licked him, the taste of blood and spunk causing him to spiral helplessly into climax as he slammed balls deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he filled Emilio full.

Zach eased Emilio’s legs off of his shoulders and then collapsed down on top of him, his face buried in Emilio’s sweaty neck. They lay there, recovering, Zach not caring that his weight was pushing Emilio down into the moldy couch cushions, and he felt Emilio’s knees slide up his sides as his lover wrapped his legs around his waist.

“Best ass in town,” Emilio said contentedly, and Zach snorted a laugh. He couldn’t help himself, whispering the three words in Emilio’s ear that never failed to make his lover roll his eyes. He did so this time, too, but he ran the back of his hand almost tenderly down Zach’s cheek before shoving him off of him, laughing as Zach fell to the gritty floor in a graceless heap.

Emilio stood up and swiped ineffectually at the cum all over him with his hand, then headed off to the shower again, grumbling. Zach watched him go, wishing with all of his heart that they were somewhere safe, where they could just be together without constant danger, fear and deprivation.

Did a place like that even exist? If it did, they would find it and get there, Zach vowed. 

Someday.


End file.
